As I was laying down resting on the couch resting, a monster of a contraction hit and I felt a distinct pop in my sacrum as the baby changed position. That "this means business" contraction didn’t let up for a good couple of minutes and it was agony. Things were about to abruptly switch gears. Jonathan knew instantly that things were a little more serious and we tried to make a quick exit. Jonathan called the doula again to let her know we were headed out the door. As we walked outside I had another "serious" contraction. I turned to Jonathan and said, “You know, if we get there and I’m only 4 centimeters I think I might just punch someone.” I was still worried that I might go in and not see much progress. In the driveway, another hard contraction hit and I looked at our van doubtfully. I did NOT want to get in. I knew that sitting strapped down to a seat during this kind of labor would be pure torture. I opened the rear sliding door and gave serious contemplation to crawling into the back on all fours. Finally, with a great amount of reluctance I opted to stick it out in the front seat. The contractions were extremely intense, but I was still able to joke in between them, send some texts and warn Jonathan not to speed (he did anyway.) We pulled into the hospital. Unfortunately, the only spaces left in the lot we had planned to use said “30 minute parking.” We decided to risk it.We went to the door of the hospital and I was beyond irritated to discover that the door was locked and that we had to use an intercom to page someone to open it. Jonathan paged through the intercom letting them know we needed to get to L&D immediately. The security guard took his sweet time waltzing over to open the door and I may or may not have uttered some unkind words about his lack of urgency as I clung on to Jonathan through a contraction. The slow poke security guard offered us a wheelchair, but I had absolutely no desire to take any more contractions sitting down so I declined and we walked to the green elevator and up to the third floor. We got to the L&D desk and I told them my name, but had to pause and grip the counter for another contraction. Each contraction required all of my concentration. The desk nurse simply smiled and another nurse led us to our room. When we got there, the she cheerily introduced herself and said to us, "I’ll be doing your admission, but someone else will be your assigned nurse." She gave me a gown and told me to change and then she would get me on the fetal monitor for my "admission strip." Jonathan helped me into the gown and as a contraction hit I squeezed his hands and leaned on him. I was starting to feel a little panicky with each contraction. Classic sign of transition, and by now I was realizing that things were going to move quickly.
As soon as my gown was on, our doula arrived quietly into the room during a contraction. She knew instantly that I was in transition. Having been present for Juliana's birth she also knew that things were going to move fast. She waited until the contraction was over and then said softly, “Look at you! You are doing great. You are so close to having this baby.” I told her that I was having a very hard time keeping calm and another contraction hit. I hung onto Jonathan and she quietly reminded me that my body was doing exactly what it was supposed to and then told me, “30 more seconds. That’s all that’s left of this one. You can do that.” Her presence was reassuring. I tried to stay focused. I told myself could handle anything for 60... 45...30 seconds. The nurse came back in and asked me to get on to the bed for monitoring. I told her I couldn't possibly stand laying down flat on my back at this point. The force of the contractions were much too strong to just lay there. Carissa asked about monitoring in an alternate position. The nurse seemed a little tense and insisted she needed me to get on the bed. At that point in our little dilemma I uttered the magic words… “I feel pressure.” The tenseness in the nurses’ voice went up a notch. She asked what number baby this was for me. Carissa replied for me, "Three. The last one came FAST." That didn't seem to reassure this nurse that was really only supposed to be there to do the admitting process. She said, “I have to get the baby on the monitor and then I have to check you. If you are getting close to complete I need to call Karen (the midwife) right away.” In the very slow, even voice I generally reserve for naughty children I responded, “Maybe you should just call her [i]now[/i].” She continued on in her quest for her admission process, saying things like, “The sooner you get on the bed the sooner we’ll be done with the monitor.” I honestly didn't give a hoot about the monitor. I was thinking that she would probably be able to check the actual baby on the outside quite shortly. I asked if I she could monitor while I laid on my side (rather than on my back) and the nurse agreed. Through the side of the bed I clung to Jonathan’s hand for dear life and kept constant eye contact with him. Carissa reminded me again that this was what my body was supposed to be doing. It was good to have the reminder that the overwhelming intensity was normal. The nurse finally got the monitor on and I caught a few seconds of the comforting gallop of our baby boy’s heartbeat.
The nurse did a quick check and announced that I was “complete with an anterior lip.” My body started to push. In one contraction the water bag bulged. I thought that it was quite possible I would split in two. Another contraction. The nurse was standing by the computer monitor checking the tracing strip and hurriedly entering my admission information. After all, we had just barely arrived and she was really only supposed to be doing our admittance process. Our doula looked at the distracted nurse and announced that the baby's head was out, still encased in an intact amniotic sac. In a rather impressive motion, the nurse pushed the emergency call button as she turned around and caught the baby’s body on the next contraction. Three "pushing" contractions total. People flooded into the room. I was still holding Jonathan’s hands for dear life. I took a quick peek at the healthy pink crying baby on my stomach and then looked away. It was hard for me to grasp what had just happened. I needed a few moments to process. The intensity was overwhelming. Someone announced the time of birth, 5:21. Four hours previous I was asleep in my bed. 20 minutes previous I had arrived at the hospital entrance. Less than 10 minutes previous I had reluctantly crawled into the bed for “admittance monitoring”. We didn't even use the full 30 minutes on our parking spot. "Surreal" doesn't even begin to cover it. I still had a death grip on Jonathan’s hands and I tried to catch my breath. It took me a few minutes. Finally, I grabbed the baby. He looked so much like Juliana with his soft honey blonde fuzz and wrinkly forehead. I held him on my tummy and we waited for the cord to stop pulsing before cutting it. Sweet baby boy and I snuggled together skin to skin, both trying to adjust to the reality of his life on the outside. About an hour after he was born he was weighed, measured and then snuggled for a bit by his proud Daddy. For the third time... we fell in love with an exquisite and unique little person.
Reed Alexander
1.21.2011
7lbs 3oz
19.5"
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